


Mistle-No

by EllieL



Series: Snapemas & Snolidays 2020 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, Fiendfyre (Harry Potter), Kissing, Mistletoe, Snapemas2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Severus Snape is not happy to be at the Order Christmas Party, and even less happy to see the way Hermione Granger is being treated.For Snapemas & Snolidays prompt "mistletoe."
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Snapemas & Snolidays 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040246
Comments: 39
Kudos: 254





	Mistle-No

Severus didn’t know why he went to the Order holiday party; he still felt half-poisoned, and couldn’t speak. Yet on Christmas Eve he found himself lurking in a dim corner at Grimmauld Place, carefully sipping a hot, spicy cider that was surprisingly soothing to his throat. The room was a riot of noise and cheer he wanted no part of, so he gave himself until his drink was finished, then he’d slip away, having put in an appearance.

What he did not count on was the girl bursting into the room, pursued by some sort of green cloud and a gaggle of laughing youths. 

“This is  _ not _ funny.” Her curls practically crackled, the vivid opposite to his own limp hair, and he could only watch in silence.

“Sure it is! All you have to do is kiss someone, and the enchanted mistletoe will leave you alone.” George Weasley pointed to the roiling green tangle hovering just over her, grin on his face a stark contrast to the thunderous look on hers.

“No! You’ve created a product that forces a person to kiss someone, whether they want to or not, or else suffer for it.” Indignation filled her voice as she pointed up at the leafy green mass, which was emitting its own crackly electricity in a rather ominous fashion just above her.

“Just give someone a kiss, Hermione, and be done with it already!”

He heard a growl from the girl, before she spun on her heel away from the rowdy crowd, though not before a stinging jinx hit Weasley where it would hurt most. The ball of mistletoe followed her, and not one other person in the room said something about the situation, or tried to stop it, despite the young woman’s flushed face —whether from anger or humiliation he did not know her well enough to judge.

When she was three quarters of the way across the room, he put down his mug and shook his head, then withdrew his wand. The rest of the room looked on in horror as fiendfyre burst forth wordlessly, then coiled across the crowded room to devour the offending ball of magical green vegetation. He let it devour a few of the more ostentatious holiday decorations as well, before extinguishing it. 

The whole room was looking at him as if they hadn’t even realized he was there, and were now terrified of the former Death Eater in their midst. All except the Granger girl--who he had to admit looked more like a woman now, 18 months after he’d last seen her. She was looking at him with awe and gratitude, brown eyes wide and watery, and lips pursed as if ready to thank him.

He wouldn’t have it. Instead, before anyone could say anything, he returned his wand to his robes and headed out the door and down the stairs. As he was buttoning his cloak, a warm hand on his upper arm stopped him. He jerked his arm away as if burned by fiendfyre himself.

“Professor—“

A sharp shake of his head was, thankfully, enough to cut her off before she said more.

“That was a very impressive display of non-verbal magic. I didn’t even know fiendfyre could be controlled so precisely, let alone without—“

He cut her off again, this time with a nonverbal silencing spell. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect, though, since she merely beamed up at him as if he was the most brilliant wizard she’d ever met. Stepping back, he continued donning his winter robes, carefully wrapping a scarf around his throat to further insulate it. 

She was still watching him, silent and smiling, but with a conflicted look in her eyes. Before he could reach the door, she touched him again, a hand on his shoulder that was enough to send him spinning sideways to face her. Then, inexplicably, her lips were against his, warm and soft, just for a second. 

Blinking, he looked down at her, unable to understand why his hands were on the lush velvet sash at her waist, why hers were tangling up into the hair at the base of his neck, why she had  _ kissed _ him. They stared at one another for a few heartbeats.

Then it happened again.

The kiss was different this time. More substantial, yes, but something had changed between them. When they parted this time, stepping apart did not feel as if either was being pushed away. 

Her hand slid down to his chest, and rested over his heart. “Thank you, sir. You were the only one who--”

This time he stopped her not with a silencing spell but a gentle finger on her lips. She pursed them slightly, as if tempted to kiss it, but he pressed more firmly. At that she nodded, and pressed her own hand more firmly against his chest.

“May I write to you?” she asked, tilting her head back just far enough to whisper past his finger.

He nodded, and withdrew a business card from the depths of his robes. Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, lingering together far longer than necessary. He acutely felt the loss of her hand against his chest, and wondered at the sensations.

“Happy Christmas, sir.”

Shaking his head, he tapped at the card, until she looked down and noticed his first name glowing faintly.

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” she said with a soft smile, tucking the card into the little beaded bag she carried.

For a two heartbeats longer, he looked at the lovely young woman before him, before nodding and turning back to the door. He heard the arrival of the pack of dunderheads behind him as he closed the heavy door, muffling the sound. Part of him wanted to turn back, bring her away with him, but this was not the time for that. 

Not yet.

Instead, he turned into his apparition from the top step, thinking of his own quiet study.


End file.
